I'm Gonna Be A Hero
by TheDauntlessShadowhunter
Summary: All little Alfred wants is to be a hero. A war hero, in fact. He wants to be in a parade with all of the other veterans one day. But when that day is realized, it's not as glorious as he thought.


_Age 6_

"Mattie!" Alfred squealed, running up to him.

"What?" Matthew asked, looking up from the picture book he was reading.

"The parade is starting soon!" Alfred grinned, tugging on his arm, "And we gotta go see it! Hurry!"

Matthew giggled and let Alfred pull him up, "Okay!"

They ran down the stairs and out the door. They didn't even ask for permission, because the parade would be passing right in front of their house.

Alfred already had a blanket on the grass before the curb, marking their spot that had been there since 7 this morning. He was just exploding with happiness. He loved parades. Especially on the Fourth of July. It was both his birthday, and a national holiday. How cool was that?

"Mattie, I can hear the band! Oh look, look, the police car!" Alfred yelled, practically standing in the street.

Matthew pulled him back as the police car went by, signaling the start of the parade. People around them cheered, and everyone had a mini American- flag in hand that a parade lady was passing out. He took two, handed one to Matthew, and waved his wildly and proudly in the air. He jumped up and down as floats rolled down the street, themed with Independence. America was turning 239 this year. Wow this place was old! There was a float about Columbus, about George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and other iconic leaders.

And then came Alfred's most absolute favorite part. The war veterans. "Mattie it's them!" he yelled and waved excitedly. His eyes shone brighter than the July sun as he watched on with admiration. "I'm gonna be just like them one day! I'm gonna fight and be a war hero! Just you watch, Mattie!"

Matthew smiled and nodded, "I know you will, Alfie. You'll be so cool."

Alfred giggled and waved, trying to draw the vets attention, so they would know how much he wanted to be like them. He would be a fighter pilot and he would get medals and awards. He would make everyone proud of him. He would be in a parade one day. "I'm gonna be a hero!" he yelled and knew that's all he wanted. He would be a _hero_!

 _Age 12_

"And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm freee!"

"Al, shut up."

"And I proudly stand up, next to you and defend her still todaaay!"

"Stop."

"Cause there ain't no doubt I love this laaand!"

"I'm leaving," Matthew stood from his place on the couch.

Alfred grinned, took a deep breath, and sung, "God bless the U.S.A!"

Matthew threw a pillow at him, which hit him in the face. "You're so annoying."

"It's my birthday, I have the right to be annoying," Alfred grinned.

"You're annoying everyday," Matthew said and rolled his eyes, "Now if you're done making my ears bleed, I can hear the police car."

"Yess!" Alfred laughed and ran outside, pulling Matthew behind him. They sat down on the curb as they had done every year, watching the parade start. Alfred watched with the same naїve joy he always did. America was turning 245 this year. Just like Alfred, America kept getting older.

Flags were passed out and Alfred held his proudly, cheering and clapping loudly. Matthew stayed next to him and cheered too. Then the veterans passed by, and Alfred stood, clapping loudly and waving.

"Mattie, just you wait, I'm gonna be a war hero! Just like that!" he beamed.

"Yes you will, Al," Matthew smiled encouragingly as he did every year.

"6 more years and I can sign up. That's so long, why can't I fly now?"

"Because you're too young," Matthew explained.

"I can't wait," Alfred said and looked at Matthew, who smiled knowingly, "You're gonna be proud of me, you know. I'm gonna be a hero."

 _Age 16_

"Al, get up, you're going to miss the parade."

Alfred groaned. "I'm tired. Lemme sleep," he mumbled into the pillow.

"Get up you lazy idiot," Matthew said and pulled his arm. Alfred slid off the bed and landed on the floor like a heavy rag doll.

"Ow, what was that for?"

"You'll thank me when you see your heroes," Matthew said and walked out, "I'll be waiting."

Alfred stood up and shook off sleep as he got ready. He bounded down the stairs, all decked out in red, white, and blue, and with this really awesome bomber jacket he'd found at the G.I Surplus store.

He made it outside just as the police car was passing and sat down next to his brother, stretching out his long legs. They watched as the parade began and as some floats were passing by, he nudged Matthew. "You're gonna miss me when I leave."

"I'm not going to miss you," Matthew said, "You're too annoying for anyone to miss you."

"Lies!" Alfred laughed, "You're gonna cry. But don't worry, I'll write letters like they did back in the olden days."

"It's 2025, Al. Nobody sends letters anymore except, like, an 80 year old."

"Well everything is pretty much email, but I'm sure I can figure it out. Can't be too hard," Alfred grinned, "That is, if I have time. I've heard rumors that we're going to war soon."

"There's always rumors that we're going to war. But we haven't in a long time," Matthew reasoned.

"I want to kick some ass! I know you're worried about me and all, but I'll be totally fine, bro," he grinned cockily and stood as the veterans slowly drove by. There were less and less each year. But if they went to war, then there would be a lot more. He clapped and cheered, proud to think he was going to be one of them. "I'm going to be the best fighter pilot."

"I know, Al," Matthew said.

"I'm gonna be a hero."

 _Age 18_

Alfred was packing to leave. He'd signed up to join the Air Force, just as he had always wanted. He had just graduated and now he finally got to leave and be someone. Be a hero.

"Al, you're gonna miss the parade," Matthew called from downstairs.

"Just one sec!" he yelled and closed the zipper. He would be leaving tomorrow for the base, but today he was going to enjoy the parade and spend it with his brother and parents, and later tonight, his friends. They were having a big birthday/ going away party.

Of course, no one wanted him to leave. Word was that a war actually might start soon. But Alfred knew they didn't understand. If he didn't go and beat the enemy up, then who would? Certainly not Mattie, with how fragile he was and was going to culinary school in the fall.

He pulled on his bomber jacket and ran down the stairs to the curb. He sat before Matthew had even made it outside. The police car went by and he was smiling happily. One day, he'd be in a parade. He would be honored for his bravery in war. He would be the best dang fighter pilot they'd ever seen!

"I'm gonna miss you, Al," Matthew said as he sat beside him.

Alfred smirked. "Just last year you wanted to get rid of me."

"Yeah, well, with an impending war, I'm going to worry about you," Matthew said, "You can barely drive a car, let alone fly a plane."

"I can drive just fine. And flying a plane is completely different," Alfred defended himself.

"Okay," Matthew sighed. They'd had this conversation before. Matthew just didn't realize that he had to do this. They stood as the veterans drove by. And as every year, Alfred cheered and clapped. People would cheer and clap for him one day. "I'm going to watch this alone next year. You're breaking tradition."

"I know, Mattie. But when I come back, we'll watch it together again, just like old times. Or maybe I'll be in the parade. And when I pass by our house, I see you, and I'll wave. Just for you."

"Okay," Matthew agreed.

"Just remember. I'm gonna be a hero,"

 _Age 21_

Lieutenant Alfred F. Jones downed a shot of rum, his fingers shaking. This was so so bad. His troop was being sent on an air raid, and Alfred wasn't as ready as he thought he'd be. He'd been preparing for 3 years, and ever since war started 8 months ago, he was ready to fight. But now... He saw the images. He was in the small bar on the base, watching the TV. They were advancing. The war so far had been brutal, bloody, deadly. The images scared the life out of him. He wanted to go home.

All his life, all he wanted was to fight in a war. He wanted to be a hero. But the pictures on the screen, the stories passed around, were all too real. One of those lifeless bodies could be him. Reality had hit him in the face too late. He stood and left the bar before he could drink more. He had to be sober to fly.

He was a great pilot during training. One of the best, his officer had commented. But he knew, just knew, that during the actual battle, he would freeze up.

Innocent people. People with lives, families, friends. People that wanted to fight for their country, that didn't want to die. They were all people, just like him. He maneuvered his fighter plane high in the air. This was nothing like video games. There was no simple joystick, no pixel people. The graphics were never this good.

He spotted an enemy plane and his co-pilot prepared to fire. Seconds later, the enemy plane exploded in a bright orange light and descended out of the sky. He may have just killed two people. How could he ever live with this on his conscious? His hands gripped the yoke tighter. His co- pilot told him to focus, or they would die too.

He blinked hard and narrowly avoided being shot down by banking sharply. He steadied the plane and they fired at the enemy, the plane falling out of the sky. Another two people.

He didn't want to be the hero anymore. He remembered how he acted as a kid. How he saw those war veterans. He knew now what they went though. The blood and gore, the constant fear. They deserved so much more than they were getting.

He shook himself back into the present again. This was no time to think. He just had to act. He had to- Suddenly the plane rocked forward and was falling. He felt an intense heat and saw flames. Orange and red flames were everywhere. A red light flashed and beeped, signaling something was wrong. He frantically pulled on the yoke and pressed buttons, but to no avail. "We've been hit! We're going down!" he yelled into his headpiece, not being able to remember the correct procedure for this. His brain had stopped working and he was panicking as he breathed in hot air.

After what felt like an eternity but also seconds, there was a jolting crash, the sound of metal on metal, and he was flung forward. The last thing he knew was he hit his head, and he was out like a light.

 _Age 46_

America was turning 279 this year. The year being 2055. Alfred Jones could hear the police car. He adjusted his glasses, and now he could see it. He stood with war veterans. Some as old as him, some older, and some younger. He smiled brightly as the float passed by the waiting people, waving to them. He was wearing a new Air Force uniform.

The war had ended 20 years ago, but he still remembered everything like it was yesterday. He had woken up in makeshift hospital, where many lay injured. He had a broken arm and head trauma. It didn't seem like too much at the time, but over the next few months, his vision clouded over. He had to wear glasses, which he thought suited him. But he hated the glasses, it meant he could never fly again.

No matter how much he hated shooting planes down, he hated not being able to fly more. He had wanted to make a difference. And all he'd done was shoot a few planes. Granted, when his plane went down, it wasn't the first time he was in a battle. It had actually been his third. And his last.

He remembered that his co pilot had been crushed under the metal, and how he'd been thrown from the plane. He had lived, and he would forever live with that guilt. It ate away at him everyday.

When they realized he needed glasses, the Air Force had discharged him. Sure, he was awarded a medal of honor, and sure he was called a hero. But he didn't feel like one. He didn't deserve anything.

All he did when he went home was have nightmares. The constant nightmares that played over and over. He was diagnosed with PTSD. He had trouble merging back into society. At least he'd had Matthew to help.

Matthew. He was Alfred's savior. Even if he wasn't around as much since he was so busy, he still made time to be with Alfred.

"You're a hero, just like you always wanted," Matthew told him, many, many times.

"I don't feel like one," Alfred moped.

"I'm sorry," Matthew would say and shake his head, "I remember when we were little, and even when we got older, that's all you wanted. And now you have it. You're a war veteran, a hero. I don't understand."

"I'm not naїve anymore. I've seen so much. So many horrible things. I guess I'm different. I don't know if it's for the better or not. I could have gone through life thinking war was a game. Like Call of Duty, remember those games?" Alfred would smile sadly and fix his glasses, "I wish I could go back and tell 12, or even 16 year old me, that it's not a game."

And Matthew would continue to try to comfort him.

But today, on his birthday, and almost every year since he came back, he'd been in a parade. Sometimes bigger and sometimes smaller, like this one, his hometown's. He waved at the people, and spotted a young boy. He was sitting on his father's shoulders, waving a small flag excitably. He was cheering and giggling, a twinkle in his eyes that Alfred used to see when he looked in the mirror.

The boy reminded him of himself in every way. He caught the boy's eyes and waved, and the boy stared with awe. He didn't think himself a hero, but to that young boy, he was. He smiled and as the float went on, they were getting closer to his house.

And there, standing on the curb in their spot, on the same blanket, with a tiny American flag, was Matthew. He locked eyes with his brother as he passed. Matthew gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Alfred gave one right back.

And just to make sure he didn't beak tradition, even though he didn't believe it, he mouthed, "I'm gonna be a hero."

* * *

 **Happy Fourth of July to all my fellow Americans! I bet you weren't expecting a dose of feels today! I'm so happy to actually post this, I've had this written for months. Have a great day, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review with the tears you dared not shed!**

 **Also Hetalia and the picture do not belong to me. Credit to the artist:** fanpop dotcom /clubs/hetalia/images/25011813/title/hetalia-photo


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